


Hale Academy

by JaneForest44



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Bondage, Class Differences, Dom Derek, Dom/sub, M/M, Pack Feels, Spanking, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:15:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneForest44/pseuds/JaneForest44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You understand, then, that there will be certain consequences.”</p><p>“Yes Sir.” His tone was nearly unreadable, on the surface submissive, but it still tasted defiant. Derek would fix that.</p><p> </p><p>Where Stiles has a scholarship to an elite werewolf academy and Derek is the student in charge of him. The two of them, and the rest of the pack, get into shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He opened the door to the room slowly, but he wasn’t exactly quiet. He was still coming into his limbs, hands and feet too big for his too skinny arms and legs; all growth spurts and nervous energy. There was nothing graceful about the kid. 

“Stillinski.”

There was a gulping noise and the sound of Stiles tripping, probably over his own-two-feet. Derek turned around in his leather chair and was met with two big brown eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“I- they told me come in…” he rushed out. 

“And they were right to.” Derek reached for the black leather riding crop sitting on his desk as he stood up, thunder in his eyes. 

Stiles eyes went even larger if that was even possible; mouth glued shut, eyes glued to the crop, heart rabbiting in his chest. 

“You disobeyed direct orders.” Derek spoke softly, authority still carrying in his voice and his calm making the whole scenario even scarier. 

His hands ran over the crop idly, smooth leather, but still hard, the slightest smirk possible making a lightening quick appearance on his features before returning to a blank stare. 

“Yes, but-“

Derek stalked towards Stiles, who was still standing awkwardly in the center of the room, slow and deliberate 

“You were told to stay out of the fields and back in the dorms.”

“Yeah, but-“

Derek circled behind him, letting the crop trace his shoulders, feeling him tense as he moved around his side. 

“And did you?”

Stiles breath hitched but he looked determined. 

“….No”

Derek’s hand gripped the boys jaw, turning his head to the side.

“No what?”

“No…Sir.”

Derek nearly grinned before releasing his face.

“You understand, then, that there will be certain consequences.”

“Yes Sir.” His tone was nearly unreadable, on the surface submissive, but it still tasted defiant. Derek would fix that.

In a quick movement Derek had Stiles over the desk, bent at the waist, one hand pushing down on the small of his back, the other holding his wrists behind him. 

Derek leaned down to speak into Stiles neck. “Keep. Still.” Stiles shivered.

With one hand still gripping his wrists, the other reached around him to undo his belt, his crotch leaning into Stiles khakis. He could feel the younger teens hard on, but barely brushed past it in his haste to undo his pants, which he pulled down in one fluid movement. 

“20. Count.” Derek said, his own breathing more erratic than he would prefer. 

Moving swiftly through the air the snap the crop was satisfying, landing loud but not too harshly on Stiles’ ass, leaving a stinging red mark. He let out a gasp. 

Derek waited, his eyes burning at the image before him. “O-one.” Stiles finally spoke, voice soft. 

His arm came down again, harder this time. A rush of air left Stiles lungs.  
“T-two.” he said through gritted teeth, slightly louder. 

The numbers continued, with Stiles determined to make as little noise as possible on impact, only breathing out reluctantly, eyes narrowed as he spoke the numbers. 

“Nine” he said, delaying longer than before. Derek could feel the tension building, raising his arm to make the next one harder. Then it happened, a soft noise,  
“Guh-Ten.” 

It was like breaking the paper on a package; Derek almost paused from the sound of it. 

After that Stiles breathing became heavier, soft noises escaped with more frequency as Derek was determined to keep a steady pace. 

By the end of it, he was shuddering; “twenty” came out barely as words, muffled into a moan. Derek immediately dropped the crop and pulled him up off of the desk, turned him to face him, pulling him into his chest. 

For a second it felt like Stiles was going to resist but he seemed too exhausted to fight and let himself sag into the older teens warmth. Stiles breath continued heavy, almost sobbing, maybe from the embarrassment or the intensity of the moment, or finally getting the physical contact that he’d needed. Eventually his breathing evened out and for the first time in months Derek heard his heartbeat slow, smelled a calm on him. 

When he pulled away Derek could see the remains of tears in his eyes and resisted the urge to wipe them away. 

“Roll call is at 7. Get some sleep.” Derek said the words softly; it felt too gentle to be an order. 

Stiles nodded, his jaw setting and his back straightening up as if he remembered his place, though behind it Derek could still see the sleepy calm in his eyes. 

He left the room and Derek turned back to his desk and sighed.

*

The Hale family owned the boarding school, which took after its own name. It was a wealthy establishment for the elite, a place that had produced some of the finest generals, politicians and thinkers the world had ever known. The fact that the vast majority of the students were werewolves was only a side note.

17-year-old Derek Hale had just been made head of his platoon, which was how the schools divided up ranks like some warped military Hogwarts. Something about the creation of leadership roles teaching valuable lessons in youth blah blah blah. It was an ambitious title for a junior, though he’d been at the school since he was a child. 

Stiles Stillinski was new, or new to class anyway. He’d been working at Hale Academy through his middle school years in the kitchens and under the gristly grounds keeper in the afternoons when his own classes in the town’s public school finished. His father had been deemed unfit by the state as a caretaker and the Hales through some strange misplaced feeling of loyalty to the family had offered the child work and housing. 

He’d often been the butt of jokes on campus, and a strange fascination of Derek who had seen him on the grounds like himself even over Christmas break, mopping up or more frequently, in the library where employees were not allowed, reading like crazy. Derek never told. 

This year though, at 15, Stiles had applied and received a scholarship, nearly a full ride and with barely any work-study. Professor Deaton had shown particular interest in sponsoring the student. Now he had to learn to get to know the kids he’d been cleaning up after for the last four years. 

Derek didn’t need to wonder whether Stiles placement in his platoon was accidental, Peter had made it obvious that he was to look after the human student, which hadn’t turned out to be easy as apparently many of the guys on campus felt threatened by the excitement Stiles’ had caused in the female population, as the poor boy from who-knows-where, though none of them were willing to do more than whisper it seems, the thought of actually talking to Stiles too much. 

In the face of hoards of muscular teen guys who felt they had been wronged, Derek couldn’t really step in and stand up for the kid without probable cause for someone like Jackson Whittemore to usurp him as captain. So when Stiles had been found snooping on practice after dark with the platoons wolves, Derek had assured them Stiles would be handled directly, the following evening, on his own. 

Of course the kid had made a few friends. Scott McCall, who transferred in the same year as Stiles, was stuck to him like a puppy, but he wasn’t in Derek’s platoon this semester. Erica and Boyd had been seen talking to him, though knowing Erica that might have just been a publicity stunt to get her famous mother to notice her, and Danny didn’t seem to hate the him as much as everyone else, though Danny didn’t really seem to hate anybody. Derek had even spotted Lydia Martin, a human despite all attempts at the bite, talking with Stillinski over books in the library in the dead of night. 

Okay, so it wasn’t like Derek was stalking Stiles or anything. It was just hard not to notice him, heart beating rapidly all over the place, he was one of four humans left in Derek’s platoon at the moment, and like the other few on campus he stood out all the more for it, like Lydia or Allison or Danny. The school had special precautions for humans; they were kept separate from the wolves during certain hours, like evening practices, which Stiles had blatantly disobeyed. It didn’t come out until the day after Stiles’ punishment that the reason he had been out there was because Scott McCall had been bitten and gone rogue into the night. 

Stiles had been trying to keep a look out for his friend and tell his Captain the news when he went out into the field, but was instead met with a wall of terrifying untrained werewolves, all of whom had to be stunned with a special whistle by Derek (earplugs) until Stiles was carted back inside, and said whistle made those hormonal were-beasts quite a bit more growly than usual. Derek himself was pretty upset. The smell of Stiles alone had made the whole situation like he was walking under water, trying to maintain control while his own wolf wanted to jump him. And if he was having trouble with restraint, he couldn’t imagine the rest of his platoon. 

 

Now it was morning, and 9am Advanced English. The news of Stiles reasoning had finally reached Derek. He didn’t regret the punishment, but Stiles loyalty to Scott was still strange. Apart of Derek, the part that wanted pack and needed his platoons allegiance felt…jealous? Weird. 

Of course Stiles was in this advanced English class, but something was strange. Usually his pen was clicking incessantly, while his mouth chewed on the other end and his freakishly long and disproportionate legs jiggled under his desk. Usually Derek and the other wolves cringed from the sounds, the over load. This morning though, there was silence….

“Okay Stillinski, what’s wrong?” asked Professor Finstock. 

Stiles looked up from his book, “Sir?”

“You’re still!”

“inski? I’m- what?”

“You’re not doing the, you know!” Finstock made weird gesture trying to mimic Stiles pen chewing, clicking thing but it ended up looking like his was giving an air blowjob. Stiles quirked an eyebrow. 

“Um- wow. Sir, I’m pretty sure I’ve never done that in your class.”

“What? Ugh. No. You know what Stillinski- detention. Actually, isn’t your Captain in the room? Hale! Discipline is supposed to be your responsibility, you knock some sense into him!”

Stiles snorted, and Derek flinched, eyes going wide, leaning forward. “Sir!”

“And no butts- tonight! Jesus, just, get him back to normal. The kids freaking me out.”

Derek stared ahead straight at the chalk board, trying hard not to think about how he had an excuse to spend another evening with Stiles, and trying not to worry about how to get him back to the anxious click-y self he is, because his thoughts were disturbed by Stiles wiggling his legs.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of Stiles backpack hitting the floor was followed closely by the slamming of the office door. Professor Deaton didn’t even look up from his book, before turning around to grab something off his ceiling-high shelf of herbs and remedies. 

“Seriously, Deaton, when are these werewolf self-defense classes going to become less about the wolves and more about the defense?”

“Perhaps when you start arriving on time.”

Stiles groaned, walking over to Deaton’s large wooden desk to peer down at what he was making. “Well I’m sorry, but I got held up, literally, between a locker and about 300 pounds of werewolf testosterone.”

Deaton turned around then, looking at Stiles for the first time since he’d walked in. His face looked untouched, thankfully, but he was holding his arm like it was in pain. He put in the final ingredient he’d got off the shelf into a mug of something purple before handing it to Stiles. 

“What’s this?”

“Bruise healer- drink quickly and then make sure to have at least three cups of water tonight before bed.”

“How did you-?”

“One of the benefits of studying wolves, Mr. Stillinski, is learning from their powers. Werewolf healing, though on the surface magical, can be mimicked and even controlled by humans with the right tools.”

Stiles drank quickly, downing the cup and made a minimal amount of faces and spluttering at the strong taste. 

“Well at least if you know I’m going to get mauled in the hallway tell me, what use is a secret super power if you don't even bother to use it for good?”

“I’m not a psychic Stiles.” Deaton said for the umpteenth time as he walked into his ingredients closet/ library to find another book. 

“You keep saying that but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“You were caught sneaking onto werewolf training by night and were punished by Derek Hale with a minimum amount of damage, none visible. You’re an easy target today.”

“Yeah, and you know what would help with that? If I knew some werewolf self-defense. If only there was a class for that- oh wait.”

Deaton came back into the room and saw Stiles laying back in his chair, no longer holding his arm, and as far as he could perceive no longer in physical pain. “You’re right, which is why I’m giving you this.” 

A large leather bound book was placed in front of Stiles who leaned forward excitedly. His first reaction was to scoff, feeling as though what he really needed was a weapon, but the intensity of Deaton’s gaze impressed upon him the significance of the object. 

“In exchange I expect you to double your readings with Ms. Martin at the library, and you will also be starting a new training with another pupil of mine shortly.”

“Another pupil?”

“You claim you need more practical protection, and I agree with you. Ms. Argent-“

“Allison?! The doe-eyes princess of Beacon Hills? Deaton, I don’t think-”

“Exactly, you don’t Stiles. Not everything is as it seems.”

“Fair is foul, foul is fair, I get it- I’m just coming from English class actually- which- oh shit.”

“What is it?”

“I have to meet with Derek Hale again tonight.” he pushed the heel of his hands into his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem, Stiles.”

“Listen, Deaton-“

“Professor Deaton.”

“-I get that you’re psychic and everything, so I don’t think I have to explain to you that I’m not exactly prepared to go through another session with Captain Hale.”

“And I want to assure you Stiles, Derek, much like Ms. Argent, may not be exactly what he seems. I believe his sense of justice to be more closely aligned with you and I, rather than that Finstock character.”

“How did you- oh never mind.”

“You are to meet Ms. Argent in the woods behind my classroom in five minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” said Stiles taking the book and putting it into his bag as he slung it over his shoulder, which no longer hurt at all. 

As Stiles made his way for the door Deaton stopped him. 

“Oh, and Stiles- you don’t have to worry about Mr. Greenburg anymore. I’ve already filed a report to the main office for suspension.” 

It was always Greenburg and his thug friends, who had become obnoxious bullies after the bite, that cornered him in the hallway. This was the third and last time Deaton would need to provide Stiles with any sort of healing remedy because of them. 

“Thanks Deaton.” said Stiles as he closed the door. Deaton turned back to his desk and sighed. 

 

*

Crossbows. Allison Argent, beautiful princess of Hale Academy (a close second to the goddess that was Lydia Martin) and love interest of his best (and now werewolf) friend was teaching him to shoot deadly arrows in the woods behind the school. 

The shock of the situation alone took Stiles nearly an hour to get used to, and he was too clumsy to actually hit many targets before Allison told him it was time to return for lunch and she would see him again tomorrow. 

No one needed to tell Stiles he had to keep the whole thing a secret but it was difficult to explain to Scott why he smelled like sweat and fear but not injuries. 

“Has someone been messing with you? Was it Greenburg- I swear to God, Stiles, I will use these new claws if I have to-”

“Woah there cowboy, I’m not some damsel in distress alright? No one is attacking me” anymore, he added in his head. “I just had defense class with Deaton.”

“Oh yeah, did he teach you anything that’ll help with, you know,” Scott leaned in and dropped his voice, “tonight.” 

They both looked up as Derek Hale walked by their table, holding a lunch tray. His eyes met Stiles briefly before they both looked away. Stiles thanked the universe Scott’s powers were still too new for him to scent his brief arousal. 

“Don't sweat it, Ponyboy.” said Stiles, though Scott still looked skeptical. He wondered how long it would be until he could pick up on heartbeat lies too.

The next few hours of classes were mostly uneventful. Stiles slipped Lydia a note in Physics apologizing for having to miss they’re reading date that evening. She sent back a scathing and somewhat suggestive message about how she would be quizzing him on Deaton’s material and he owed her all the dirty details of his evening with Captain Hale.

 

*

When Stiles entered Derek’s room he had no time to stumble awkwardly because a hand was already grabbing his arm and pulling him close. 

“Let’s go for a walk.,” whispered Derek into his ear. 

Holding Stiles arms behind his back roughly they exited back out through the hallway and common room from which Stiles had came. A few students looked out at the two of them, Derek’s face blank, and Stiles anxiety building, as he feared Deaton had been wrong about Derek’s intentions. Once they left their platoons wing of the school, Derek released Stiles and they walked side by side. 

“Wait, so- you’re not going to punish me?”

“I hardly think not jiggling anxiously and biting you pen is a crime worth punishing”

Stiles cursed Deaton for always being right.

“Though I have to admit.” Derek leaned towards Stiles as they walked. “I liked seeing you so calm.” Stiles heartbeat sped up in his chest. 

“So, am I free to-“

“I wouldn’t run away Stiles, werewolves still have a tendency to chase.”

“Right.” He knew that, from one of the billion books he’d read about them. 

Derek looked at Stiles. He wanted to talk to him about how he’d seen him all the years he’d worked at the school, about how he’d been the one to suggest were-wolf defense courses for all human students along with his Uncle. He wanted to ask what it was like to be human here, if he missed his father, if he knew about Derek’s parents, if he wanted to be touched again, but his internal monologue was broken by the sound of Stiles taking a deep intake of breath. 

“Well, if you’re going to keep me for the night, can we at least talk?”

“Sure.”

“When did you first start living here?” Stiles looked up from underneath his eyelashes at the older teen. 

“I was five.”

Silence. 

“and?”

“and my parents wanted me to be at school. Things were still pretty dangerous then.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” said Stiles. of course they were, the war had only just ended when they were children. 

“You?”

“What?” asked Stiles taken aback. 

“How old were you.”

“Oh- eleven. I think you already knew that though. Is it my turn to ask a question?”

“Okay.”

“Spiderman or Batman.”

“Spiderman.”

“Oh come on!”

“What?”

“Really? Spiderman? The teenage boy whose body starts changing and then he’s squirting sticky white stuff everywhere?”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“I mean at least you and Batman both have that tall, brooding, orph-oh shit.” Stiles blushed. 

“Then I choose Wolverine.” said Derek dead pan. 

Stiles looked up at him, mouth open. 

“Dude, was that a joke? I didn't know you could-”

But before he could see Derek’s response he was being pushed into a cleaning closet (one he was all too familiar with) off of the corridor they were walking, where once inside he was flipped around, and a hand was over his mouth, with another pinning his hip to the shut door.

He made a muffled noise, looking at Derek with big eyes, and was met with a soft low shushing growl from deep within the wolfs chest. Stiles gulped. 

Then he heard it, voices turning the corridor. Derek could smell the strong perfume of Kate Argent, a senior girl, Captain of a rival platoon (the only human to ever reach the rank), and Allison’s cousin, as she spoke to professor Finstock. 

Stiles eyes widened with dawning as he recognized the voice of their professor. When the voices finally passed into silence Stiles expected Derek to release him, but he didn’t. When he looked up questioning into his Captain’s eyes he saw the look of lust. 

Derek let down his hand. “You” he whispered, “your heart slowed down.”

“I-“ Stiles started but he became distracted by the feeling of Derek lowering his head to his neck, teeth grazing slowly over his skin, making him breathe in a shaky breath. 

“You like to be touched.” said Derek, in a small growl on his neck. 

“Derek.” Stiles hand moved up to the older boys shoulder.

Derek let go and looked down at Stiles. 

“They’re going to know, you know, that you didn’t punish me.”

“Who?”

“The other students- Finstock.”

Derek made a huff of agreement. 

They walked out of the building in the fields besides the woods. The sun was just about to set, though there was no werewolf practice tonight. Stiles looked pensive. 

“Derek, you need you to mark me.”

“I’m not just going to-”

“Come on, you know it’s the only way they’ll leave me alone.”

“Last time I did it because I thought you needed to learn a lesson about safety.”

“And this time you’ll do it because you want to.” Stiles looked him in the eye, more confident than he felt. Then, without warning, he sprinted off towards the woods. Derek’s wolf leaped within himself, and before he could control it he was chasing after his new prey. 

It didn’t take very long to catch Stiles in a clearing in the woods, he had him pinned to the forest floor in seconds, seeing laughter and fear in his eyes. 

With his wrists pinned about his head with one of Derek’s hands, Derk lowered his face to Stiles. 

“Alright, you want to be marked? I’ll mark you.” His other hand revealed claws as he tore through Stiles shirt, making him gasp. 

Stiles looked up at the trees and the sky behind them as it slowly shifted into night. He felt a soft bite on his shoulder, too gentle to be scary, and Derek’s hand slightly scratching the sides of his ribs. Then there was licking at his collarbone and chest, Derek's movements become more fervent, light bruises pressing into Stiles skin.

Through his gasps he let out a "Guh, Sir." That only made Derek move faster. 

When he tried to move his hands to touch Derek back he was met with resistance and small growls, held tightly in place, his breathing growing stronger and stronger until he was sure he would come in his pants and right when he was on the edge, Derek stopped. 

Then Derek stood up, taking Stiles with him. He took off his blazer and put it around Stiles shoulders, effectively covering up his torn shirt. 

“Roll call is at 7.”

Stiles gaped at him, pants fitting way too tightly, not sure how to respond. Derek leaned into Stiles, whispering in his ear. 

“Try not to get into too much trouble, or I’ll have to punish you again.”

and Oh God, that voice. Stiles ran back to the school considering the state he was in and jacked off in the shower. Looking down he saw the bruises scattered against his body, and liked it. 

Holy crap, what was wrong with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really love to hear what you think, please let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

Roll call was at seven, and Stiles' body felt sore in the best of ways. He licked his lips and opened his eyes, realizing something wasn’t right. He wasn’t in his bed, face on the floor and ass in the air. 

“Come on Stillinski, we all know you’re desperate but this is just sad.”

Jackson Whittemore, here to wake-up his platoon. Hurray. 

“Pathetic” he said as he nudged Stiles face with the toe of his boot, too soft to be a kick but still, ow. 

Stiles let out a noise, brain too slow from waking up to have a witty comeback. He went to move to get up but he felt another foot on his back pushing him down flat on the floor. 

“Maybe we should punish you for sleeping in, huh Stillinski? How about something you’re good at? Like cleaning these boots.”

His other foot still next to Stiles mouth, Stiles took a deep breath preparing a “fuck you,” but a hand was already pushing Jackson off of him. 

“Leave him alone Jackson.”

“McCall- what are you doing here?”

“Transferred in this morning. I’m in Hale Platoon, Peter’s orders.” He had on a toothy grin. 

Jackson looked like he was going to put up a fight, but something stopped him. He took a deep breath and crinkled his nose looking disgusted. While the two werewolves were busy making eyes at each other Stiles scrambled to his feet and grabbed his cap and green over shirt to button up on the way down to the fields. 

Jackson growled lowly but retreated to the next bunk as Scott turned around, prepared to give Stiles a big goofy puppy dog grin. It was a strange emotional cocktail brewing in him, on the one hand ecstatic that his best friend was now in his platoon, on the other hand embarrassed from having to be rescued like some damsel in distress. He’d have to ask Allison about hand to hand combat one of these days. 

So he threw an arm around Scott’s shoulder. “Come on Peter Parker, we have ten minutes to get down there before the Green Goblin rips our heads off.”

Unlike most mornings, today’s role call would be combined with physical training. As a part of the new governments anti-segregation laws in schools (even private ones) both werewolves and humans would train together on a military like obstacle course for a few hours. 

“Dude- you reek.” Scott stage-whispered to Stiles as they got in line, late. 

“I had to suffer another round of corporal punishment with the wolf-demon last night, remember?”

“Yeah, you smell like bruises, but something’s off-“

“Besides the fact that we go to a school where you can say I smell like bruises and not immediately freak out at how abnormal that is?”

“No- there’s another scent. It smells like-“

“McCall.”

Seriously, was Scott a cartoon character? Because he most surely just visibly gulped at the sign of Derek Hale standing in front of him. He raised his hand in an anxious solute and looked straight ahead, shoulders back. 

“Sir, yes Sir!”

Stiles focused all his energy on not face palming himself into a concussion. 

“Do you know what time it is, McCall?”

“Sir, no Sir.”

“7:02. Do you know what that means?”

Scott looked like a kicked puppy. “We’re late?”

“Yes. You're late.” Stiles tried not to show his reaction to Derek’s voice, doing that quiet yet authoritative thing again. 

“Laps. Fifty of them. Move” and thus Scott was racing off passed the rest of the platoon. The laps were long, the length of the estate and he was not allowed to shift at all. Afterwards he would join everyone for the regular assignment. He looked like a goof ball lifting his knees too high and almost tripping when he passed Kate Argents platoon, waving at Allison Argent, who-God bless her-giggled and waved back. 

This is when Stiles noticed he had his mouth agape, staring after his friend, shoulders slunched forward, and Derek hadn’t moved. He was…just staring at him. 

“The rest of you- start Course 012, and because you couldn’t be on time, and for embarrassing us in front of the company, 20 reps of PT 44.”

A few people groaned, and glared at Stiles. Derek flashed his eyes though and everyone began to move, jogging off towards the course. Stiles went to move with them when a hand went up to grab him by back of his shirt, the scruff of his neck. 

“Not so fast Stillinski.” He felt lips move against his ear. He felt his heart pick up in his chest.

“You’re not very good at staying out of trouble.”

“Maybe you’re just not good at teaching me a lesson” Shit- why had he said that?

Derek growled, “We’ll see,” and released him, pushing him towards the rest of the platoon. 

If Stiles thought he was getting off easier than Scott he was wrong, Derek was on his ass (in the bad kind of way) all morning, making him repeat certain routines over and over. 

Laying in the mud underneath Derek, his stupid menacing boots standing on either side of his head, right in his stupid line of vision, he did another ten push-ups. 

Derek squatted down. “Again.”

Stiles let out a moan. 

“What was that?”

“Thank you. Sir.” he grit out. 

He forced himself to do five more, when his arms felt like jelly. Everyone else was already starting to head in, given the go ahead by Derek. Scott was told to go wash the barracks. 

His arms were wiggling, fucking wiggling, there was no way this was going to happen, and he was about to say so and give up, but there was Derek fucking Hale, still in front of him. He got to six. 

“Come on Stiles.”

It didn’t sound angry, or even pleading. Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was because it was the first time he could remember Derek saying his name. 

He pushed and finished the last three, before promptly rolling over into the bud, belly up in the air, tongue hanging out of his mouth. It was starting to rain. 

When he opened his eyes Derek was still above him, looking down at his face. What was this? It was the first second he’d had alone since his shower last night, well, as alone as you can get in a paramilitary boarding school, just him and Derek in this part of the field. 

He had to know he was attracted to him, could probably smell it from his own dorm room, which meant other students probably knew too and oh shit. What if all this extra pushing was to try and scare Stiles away, to really whip him in the shape so teachers would stop making them spend time together? 

Fuck, Stiles had just assumed Derek was into this whole- oh God what would you even call this? Power play thing? Did Stiles even like that- I mean wasn’t the point of learning all this stuff with Deaton to be able to defend against stuff like this- stuff like Derek?

Speaking of which, Derek was looking at him was big bushy eyebrows now, which okay, was kind of adorable. 

“Your heart jumped. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m- oof.”

Derek had picked him up by the front of his shirt and pushed him up against one of the climbing walls. 

“Tell me.” he said softly. 

“I- I was just thinking that I’m sorry. That you have to spend so much time with me.”

Thank god Derek could smell Stiles arousal, and way he’d immediately relaxed more at getting lifted and pushed, or he’d think the kid was trying to get out of this too, which, huh, maybe he was. But his wolf said different. 

“I’m willing to work with you-“ Derek hand went to grab Stiles waist “-as long as it takes for you to learn.”

“Learn what?” asked Stiles, licking his lips and staring at Derek’s mouth. Oh, Derek thought, this was going to be fun. 

He released Stiles, which made the younger teen let out a soft mewl, and stood back, looking him up and down. 

“Stillinski. At attention” he barked, making Stiles scramble to stand up straight. He was muddy, dirt all over his cheeks, green standard issue shirt not tucked in and buttoned wrong so he could see his white undershirt, hand-me down belt pulled tight around too-big pants, with an extra hole poked in because he was that skinny making extra leather hang out. His cap was dirty but still hanging onto his head, though askew. Stiles blushed. 

Derek idly touched the collar of Stiles shirt. “Uniform violations. Tardiness. Trespassing after hours.”

“I was already punished for that,” whispered Stiles, backed up against the wall. 

“Punished for the time you got caught. Not all the other times you and McCall have been in the grounds after hours. Or the library.”

Stiles breathe hitched. 

“Captains do patrols you know. Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in here, Stilinski?”

“Well I’m at a school almost entirely composed of werewolves in a post war society where the humans lost, so yeah I’d say I’m a little aware.”

“Really, because you could have fooled me.”

“What can I say, I like to live life on the edge. “

“I know I can’t convince you to stay in at night.”

“Oh, looks like you can catch on!”

Derek began unbuttoning his shirt.

“But I can at least give you a reminder to be safe.”

“How are you going to-oh!”

Derek had lifted up Stiles undershirt and put his teeth down above his hip, biting enough to leave a mark. Stiles gasped and squirmed as he felt the older teens hot breath on his skin, licking lightly at the spot. Derek listened as Stiles breath slowed, his eyes going half lidded, his mouth parting with arousal.

“Go get cleaned up.”

“Um- yeah-okay I’ll get on that. Sir”

“Stiles…”

“Yeah?”

Derek hesitated. He had almost told the kid to call him by his first name, but maybe that was too soon. 

“Would you like to study with me tomorrow?”

 

*

“He what?!” asked Allison, shooting another arrow. 

“He asked me on a study date, like a non-threating, no punishment, study date.”

“Wow, I just, I can’t believe it. You’re going to be hanging out with Derek Hale.”

“Well, studying, but still.” Stiles lifted up his bow and tried to shoot one of the targets. “This isn’t working.”

“I know” said Allison reluctantly. She’d been trying to sugar coat Stiles' failure all day. After morning work out most students had gone off to work on special studies projects, but Deaton had insisted they continue their regime. 

“Maybe we should try something else? I wanted to ask you about hand-to-hand combat.”

“Yeah, we could do that.” Allison was biting her lower lip, looking off in the distance. 

“Okay, what’s up?”

“It’s nothing.”

Stiles gave her his ‘bitch please’ face. 

“It’s Scott.” 

Stiles let the side of his mouth quark up, of course it was Scott, everything was finally gonna work out for that kid. These two had only been making eyes at each other for months. 

“Okay, what’s the problem?”

“My cousin Kate. She had Scott removed from our platoon.”

“I thought that was Peter’s decision.”

“Yes, the idea was he should be closer to you and Derek, a friend in the platoon and a werewolf for a Captain since being bitten seemed like a good idea, but there are plenty of wolves in our group and”

“and you think she did it to keep you guys apart?”

“Well, dating a werewolf kind of does go against our family code.”

Shit. Stiles had read about this with Lydia. The Argents had come from a family of soldiers during the Great War, and it was believed some of them were active terrorists today. 

Stiles didn’t know if Kate and Allison were at the school because the werewolves wanted to keep a close eye on the children, or because the Argents wanted to play some ‘know thy enemy’ shit. Either way, it would explain the crossbow knowledge. 

“That makes sense.” said Stiles after a while. “But it’s not like they have to know, I mean, it’s not like Kate can smell him on you.”

Allison smiled. “Oh! That reminds me, Lydia has something she wants to show you."

*

When they got to Deaton’s office Lydia was already sitting daintily on his desk reading a humongous book. Without looking up she reached out of her purse and held out something to Stiles. 

“It’s a blocker, hides your scent to wolves by creating a blanket smell. It hides everything, the scent of other wolves, embarrassment, fear, arousal.”

At this she glanced up and Stiles made a face at her. Oh come on, how could Lydia know he may have the hots for Captain Hale? Okay, she was Lydia, but still. 

He took the gadget that looked like a pocket watch with holes in it, which he presumed to let out scent.

“You made this?”

“Well there’s a lot you can get done with Deaton when you don’t have to practice shooting twigs in the woods.”

“We should go.” said Allison. “Dinner’s soon, library at 8?”

“Sure” said Stiles. When he went to leave he saw that she was still looking at him with big brown puppy eyes. 

He sighed, “Yes, I’ll bring Scott.” Stiles was just going to pretend the tiny squeal Allison let out wasn’t flipping adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I got in an accident but all is well now! More to come and more sub!Stiles/dom!Derek scenes, Huzzah!
> 
> Your comments seriously make my day and it helps a lot hearing from you, so thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles swallowed his food without chewing, wanting to make dinner quick so he could get to the library and find a nook before the rest of his platoon was done eating. Derek watched in amazement from the other side of the hall. Despite how some of their professors might hound the kid for his ADD, he had an incredible amount of focus, shoveling food in his mouth while reading this giant leather book. He even seemed completely oblivious to how alone and vulnerable he was. McCall was nowhere to be found, probably off with that Argent girl. Derek considered talking to him about that now that he had switched out of Kate’s platoon.

Derek flinched; Erica had just taken Stiles’ apple from off his plate, her and Boyd coming up from behind him. Derek’s muscles tensed, preparing to get up and stop any sort of assault that might follow, but Stiles was smiling.

Boyd went to reach for Stiles book and he pulled it away, shaking his head, probably saying some smart-ass remark. Erica was smiling too now. Derek tried to tune into what they were saying but it was nearly impossible. Of course Stiles would pick the one place in the room to sit where the acoustics made it impossible to eavesdrop.

Derek was contemplating switching seats to try and hear better, but Erica and Boyd were already backing away, slipping something into their pockets. Stiles got up shortly after, stuffing the giant book in his bag and left the hall, going to the library.

As he went to turn back to his own dinner, he felt a prickling on the back of his neck. He turned around to see Kate Argent staring at him from her own platoons table, her eyes laughing. Derek huffed and turned back to his food.

“Fuck you.” he whispered, knowing she couldn't hear.

Stiles was able to get the table he liked in the library, a freakish nook on the top floor that was insulated very well, a place he could mumble and twitch all he wanted without disturbing any wolves. The book Deaton had given him would have to wait for another time because Lydia was bustling towards him.  
“Details.” she smiled as she slid into the seat across from him.

“Uh, no. Studying. I’m already two days behind, and if Deaton gives us another surprise exam I’m going to be slaughtered, maimed, harmed in very very bad ways.”

Scott walked in with Allison.

“Dude, Deaton’s not even a werewolf.”

Stiles looked at him like he was an idiot. “Exactly! We don't even know what he is, and that wizards more than just a crazy old man.” Allison quirked her eyebrows at him, of course she would get the Star Wars reference, when was Scott finally going to watch?

“Fine, your point has been made.” Lydia said, throwing down a book on the table, “No need to be such a drama queen.” Stiles held back a comment on the irony of that statement coming from Lydia, though she glared at him anyway probably knowing what he was thinking.

“You will give me the details though eventually Stillinski- don’t you dare doubt it.”

The next two hours were comprised of a nauseating mix of watching Allison and Scott play footsie under the table while Lydia quizzed him mercilessly on Deaton’s readings, a bizarre combination of ancient ruins, werewolf history, 17th century poets, rebellion leaders, the properties of plants, cooking techniques, and Arabic. Lydia only let up when she pulled out her own homework, a notebook filled with complicated math, a human physiology textbook and some sort of engineering guide. Stiles refrained from asking and opted to pull out the leather book once again.

From what he’d gathered so far it was a journal. And a recipe book. And maybe a guide to yoga? Or sex? The illustrations looked vaguely like a Karma Sutra. The records seemed to go way back too, the earliest pages looking almost medieval, the final ones written in what looked like modern ink pen, all in some strange code. Part of him wondered if it was a book for hunters, but asking Allison about her family still seemed a bit taboo, especially in front of Scott. The strangest part was that the book wasn’t even filled yet, there was plenty of blank space to add more, maybe Deaton had written in it once....

Another hour passed and Stiles realized he was really going to need one of Deaton’s druid dictionaries. He looked up to Allison yawning, leaning against Scott’s shoulder, and clasping hands. There cuteness was sickly enough to destroy anything in it's path, forget werewolves and beatings and freaky potions, this is what freaked Stiles out.

“We’re heading back dude, the library’s closing. I’m walking Allison to her platoon, want to join?” asked Scott. His sheepish grin meant he did want Stiles to join but he also wanted to make out with his girlfriend. What a great guy.

Lydia gave Stiles a look. The library was “locked” at night by a pipe of mountain ash, making it easy for the two of them to stay late when they’d stumbled across some of Deaton’s more taboo subjects and needed to discuss without being overheard.

“No, I think I’ll head back myself. I want to grab something at Deaton’s office.”

Scott shrugged and walked away, carrying Allison's bag. Lydia began packing up.

“Hey, do you want me to walk you ba-“

Lydia held up a hand, “I think can handle myself.” she said, pulling a fake smile. “But thanks. Besides, I have to meet Danny.”

“Danny? but isn’t he-“

“Gay? Yes Stiles. And Jackson’s best friend. And a computer genius.”

“Oh yeah, I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't" she said putting a pile of papers away.

"So what are you guys making?”

“You’ll see.” she said matter of fact, before walking off towards the entrance.

“Okay- well goodnight to you too!”

The walk down to Deaton’s office wasn’t a long one, though it was dark. The halls were empty as it was after hours but Stiles was mostly used to this. Years of working at the school had taught him all the best short cuts and secret passageways.

When he was younger, exploring the grounds at night had been one of his favorite things to do, since it was the only time he had free time, and the groundskeeper he lived with in the beginning always smelled a little bit like booze.

Stiles decided to cut through the boiler room, it was loud in there so very few werewolves tended to go so he wouldn't stumble across any couples. A dull thrumming made it impossible to hear in the room unless you were pretty close to someone. Passing the dark machines he saw a light in the shadows, two glowing red eyes. Fuck. He stood still and crept towards the nearest hiding spot.

“I told you to keep an eye on them!” drawled a voice.

“I am- I am” said a quiet voice.

“If it happens again, I won’t be so forgiving.” and with that Peter Hale began stalking towards the door. Stiles tried to corner himself even farther in the shadows, breathing deep to slow his heart, though he didn’t think it could be heard over the racket.

A thought occurred to him and he grabbed the blocker Lydia gave him out of his pocket, pushing down on the top of the pocket watch type adjuster.  
Peter stopped in front of his hiding place as he walked by. He sniffed the air, though he didn’t turn his head. Stiles held his breath, and though it was dark, he could have sworn he saw the corner of Peter’s lip turn up into a smirk. Then he exited, slamming the door behind him.

Stiles let out a sigh and then remembered he was still stuck in the boiler room with whoever Peter was yelling at. He heard a groan and put a hand over his mouth to keep himself from letting out a sound. A shadowy figure crawled by, a shape he could barely make out as it shuffled out of the room, fuzzy like a wolf, and oh fuck was that blood? It shut the door softly and Stiles waited in the dark for what felt like hours before walking back to his dorm, he’d get the dictionary tomorrow.

*

Stiles was exhausted the next day, probably because all his dreams had creepy red eyed beasts in them and the journal was still tormenting him. Maybe Captain Hale saw his exhaustion and was starting to ease up on him because he only got a minimal amount of shit at roll call the next morning. In fact, everything was going pretty smoothly, especially when Stiles realized, outside of Jackson’s wake up call yesterday, no one had tried to beat the shit out of him for a whole 24 hours.

So of course everything went to hell in Chemistry.

For one, Professor Harris hated him. Stiles didn’t blame him for it, god knows what has to happen to a person f to make them take out their problems on a bunch of hormonal sixteen year olds, but Harris’ attempts to make his life miserable still weren’t…fun.

He should have been clued off first when Harris showed up to class late. He walked in holding a piece of paper like he was Charlie and it was the golden ticket. And he almost immediately made eye contact with Stiles, a creepy grin going over his face.

“I have just been in a meeting with Headmaster Hale.” Harris said, pausing for dramatic effect. The large lecture hall grew silent.

“He’s informed me that some students have been staying out after hours.” Harris looked at Stiles, and Stiles kept a blank face. He didn’t need to be a werewolf to see about half the students in the room move awkwardly in their seats, staying out late wasn’t just a Stilinski specialty.

“Oh, but this," he waved the paper around "this is so much worse than that. It was found in the library after hours. I have here in my hands plans for something that is not only illegal at this school, but treasonous. Can you tell me what this is, Stillinski?”

Harris held up the paper to Stiles’ face. It was one of the papers Lydia had been working on the night before, her handwriting very clear. Harris had to know it was hers, and yet he was still glaring at Stiles. There was some sort of chart that looked like a heart monitor, and a bunch of calculations and code? It looked like computer code. And there on the top of the page was his name. His heart rate jumped, which to the rest of the class was probably as good as a death sentence.

“I don’t know Sir.” said Stiles.

“Take a guess.”

“It looked like some sort of medical tool.”

Harris looked like he would slap him.

“These are plans, for what exactly we are not sure, but some sort of werewolf debilitating device.” The class seemed to growl in synch. Memories of the war and   
humans using technologies to fight wolves were still fresh in everyone’s minds, legends told by parents and older siblings.  
“Who ever this paper belongs to will be punished. So tell me, Mr. Stillinki- did you get help? Another student perhaps, or maybe a certain human professor?”  
Shit. Shit shit shit. Lydia had to be somewhere in class and Stiles knew she was probably staring at him. He focused with all his might on slowing his heart beat.  
“No.”  
“No what?’  
“No, no one helped me.”  
“Stiles!” yelled Lydia. But to everyone else, maybe her outrage sounded like it stemmed from his 'treasonous' behavior.  
“To my desk. Now.”  
Stiles stood up from his chair with shaky legs and walked towards Harris’ desk as he pulled out a long rod.  
“Really? Here?” Stiles gaped. No way was he getting whipped in front of his entire Chemistry class.  
“Yes Mr. Stillinski, here.” grinned Harris, mumbling so only Stiles could hear (if they were human) “I have been looking forward to this for a long time.” He gripped Stiles by the back of his hair and pulled him over the desk.  
“No.” came a growl from the back of the room. Mr. Harris looked up.  
“Hale, sit down.”  
“It’s the code Professor, Captains are in charge of discipline.” Derek walked towards the desk, eyes glowing. “He has disgraced my platoon, and it is my job to punish him.”  
Harris looked torn, obviously wanting to beat Stiles, but knowing Derek was right and Peter’s nephew. After a long pause he said, “Fine. Take it in the closet, it won’t be so loud in there. “  
Derek gruffed, eyes still glowing with rage as he grabbled Stiles shirt and pulled him up. As he was dragging him towards the closet, Harris stopped them.  
“Derek, don’t be gentle.”  
“Believe me.” said Derek tugging Stiles. “I won’t”  
*  
Stiles felt himself being thrown in the closet and immediately turned around. He didn’t know if he was more grateful or afraid. Derek’s eyes were still glowing and he looked pissed.

“Derek, I promise, that paper wasn’t mine.”

“Of course it wasn’t yours.” hissed Derek. “I can’t believe he was going to-hold on“

Derek punched a wall, and then looked back at Stiles who went pale in the face.

Stiles was silent.

“Make a noise.” whispered Derek, “Or I’ll make you make a noise.” he smiled slightly.  
“W-what?”

Derek nocked over some cleaning supplies.

“Hey- someone has to work with those-” Stiles had used this closet, but Derek was backing up against him.

“Some people will still be listening” Derek whispered low, “We need to make it sound good.”  
A look of dawning went over Stiles face, followed by a smirk,

"Was this all apart of your plan to be close to me Captain?" But before he could respond he felt a claw gently scrape his thigh.  
“Oh God- ahh!” He gasped. It hurt a little, but it felt so good.

"I have an idea" huffed Derek.

Derek began hitting the walls again with one hand and then tickled Stiles with the other.

“Oh God! HahahAAAA Derek STOP!” Derek let go but leaned his forehead against Stiles.

“Louder.” growled Derek, reaching a hand around to grab Stiles ass.

“UGH!” cried Stiles, grinding forward into the older teen, looking up at him with big needy eyes and Derek grinned.

“Do you want me to punish you?” asked Derek as he spun Stiles around in the closet, so his face was up against a sidewall. Stiles whimpered.  
“I could-“ he threw down a smack on his ass, “spank you again, make you really scream.”

“Derek” muffled Stiles.

“Tell me.” whispered Derek.The 'I need to know this is okay' went unspoken.

“Oh my god, please. Please spank me.”

Derek growled in approval and lay down a series of hard swats on Stiles ass, making him moan and sting and writhe and ultimately relax.

Derek breathed in his scent, he loved Stiles like this, heart pounding steady and slow, feeling him so close and fluid and happy. Tuned in and zoned out at the same time.

When it looked like Stiles was going to cry, from good feelings by the smell of it, Derek turned him a around and lifted up his own palm, biting a cut into it. He let his blood smear onto Stiles face.

“Dude- gross.”

“Half the beta’s out there can’t smell the difference, they'll think it's yours and and their wolf will think you're mine.” He put his hand through Stiles hair and ruffled it up for good measure. Ew.

“Stay in here until after you hear the class leave, Stilinski,” Derek growled, "or else." What?! Oh my God, Stiles was going to flip out again but he felt so good and drugged up on calm.

And with that Derek walked out of the closet and back to his seat, like he hadn't just driven Stiles completely nuts in a closet a few feet away from their entire class and Professor Harris. Stiles made a whimpering noise, which hopefully to the rest of the class sounded like physical pain.

They were going to talk about this tonight, because there was no way Derek was backing out of their study date now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments guys, you really helped me through a rough time. Please let me know any thoughts you have on this story. More to come soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry if you do not like this! Thank you for reading and please comment your thoughts, it makes my day hearing from you. I'm posting two chapters, the next one is more sexy than this.

Derek sat, legs shaking under the table, waiting for Stiles to arrive. This nook of the library rarely had visitors, a virtual quit dark corner easily passed by. I shy looking freshman girl walked in with her head down, and squeaked running away like a mouse when she saw him. Otherwise, he’d been very alone for the past hour. 

It was a good thing too; seeing as it had been a rough day even after the stress of Chemistry, since right after class two newly turned pups had confronted him. 

Erica and Boyd cornered him in the hallway. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derek had growled, enough heat in his voice as he could muster, not really wanting to deal with this after worrying about Stiles for the last hour.

“We heard what you fucking did Hale” Boyd glared. 

“And we’re not okay with it.” Erica let her claws begin to descend. 

Derek stood up a little taller. “Get out of here, this is not your place.” He could sense the two cowering under his steady gaze on instinct but they still resisted. Erica lifted her eyes to meet him.

“He’s been through enough.”

Boyd took her hand in his and the confidence came back into her voice. 

“And I don’t care that you’re Captain. Stiles, he’s special okay? And if you lay a single finger on him again, I’ll….I’ll…”

“She’ll rip your throat out. With her teeth.” deadpanned Boyd. 

Derek looked at the two of them. Their loyalty to Stiles was admirable and confusing. He had the urge to comfort them, make them pack, and also beat them over the head with a shovel for being so stupid as to confront a much stronger, older Captain as he was. He knew that there was no one he could tell them his “attack” of the kid in the closet wasn’t what it seemed. 

So Derek said the only reasonable thing he could think of in this situation. 

He said “Okay,” and walked right passed the two of them, looking stunned after him. 

As he turned a corner he could hear Erica whisper “That was too easy.” 

Boyd nodded. 

That’s when Derek ran into his Uncle.

*

Lydia, Danny and Stiles sat in Deaton’s office.

“So what was it for?” asked Stiles as Lydia handed him an ice pack to put on the bruise on his hip. 

“A heart beat monitor.”

Stiles gave her a look he hope conveyed ‘don’t fuck with me I’ve been through enough just tell me or I swear to God I’ll shank you’ but Lydia was undeterred. Danny eventually spoke up from behind his laptop.

“A heart blocker. Mimics the beat of your heart naturally so as to cover up lying, fear, the basic give aways.”

“Danny was working on a way to add controls, so you could change the settings. Theoretically you could convince an enemy you were terrified while remaining calm.”

“Or vice versa.” added Danny. 

“Why?” Stiles asked looking them over. “The wars over- why are you making these-” he gesticulated searching for the word. Decoys? Not-Weapons?

Danny closed his laptop. “You’re not stupid Stiles. You know what goes on around here.”

Yeah Stiles knew, he knew humans lost the war, was reminded of it everyday when he was beaten, when he was looked down on by assholes like Jackson. Reminded every time he thought of his Dad of how true the claim that he was an “unfit parent” was, how it was enough to let the State take him away. Reminded when he saw Scott and knew it was the same shit they pulled on his mother when they needed to remove children from parents who were getting in the way. Reminded when he thought of the two of them being reconditioned, tortured or dead. He knew what was happening when he’d first came to the school and Peter had tested him. Stiles knew that the war wasn’t over, not really, but the anger he felt was still so strong, not because the two of them had put his life at risk, but someone else. 

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you could be getting Deaton into? At all? He’s not even here Lydia- for all we know Peter’s had him fired- or more likely reported to the State.”

She looked Stiles in the eye. “Deaton knew the risks.”

“He was- but- wait- oh god- oh of course he was. And of course he knew! Fucking psychics!”

“What is he talking about?” asked Danny. 

“I have no idea.” whispered Lydia, taking a book off the shelf to try and find a good relaxer for Stiles.

“One more thing- why did that paper have my name on it?”

“It’s kind of ingenious actually, all Lydia. Each heartbeat is different. The best werewolves can tell the difference.”

“And you need to deter the best of the best.” Stiles whispered sarcastically, knowing that meant elite werewolf soldiers. 

“Naturally” smirked Lydia. 

“So each ‘heart’ is special for each individual. The plans Harris found just happened to be the blueprints for your heart blocker.” Danny continued.

“How did you get my heartbeat?”

“The state holds records in a database like fingerprints for prisoners. That was all Danny actually, broke in in less than an hour.”

Danny made a face like it was nothing and Stiles felt like he was going to vomit if he had to hear the two geniuses pat each other on the back one more time. 

“I have to go,” he said, putting the ice pack back on the desk

“Where?” the two said at once.

“Jesus- don’t do that. I have a study meeting with Derek.”

“Okay.” said Lydia coyly, turning back to her book. 

“What- you’re not going to tell me not to go- the guy beat me in a closet this morning!”

“Whatever you say,” said Danny. 

Fucking geniuses, Stiles thought as he slammed the door shut. 

**  
Derek looked up from his book. Stiles was only a few feet away, his stealth points increasing.  
“You’re getting…quieter.” he mused. 

“Yeah” Stiles scratched the back of his head, “I’ve been working on that whole ‘not getting murdered’ thing.”

“Really? How’s that going?” Derek asked grimly. 

“Well apparently not too great considering I showed up here.” There was a pause and Derek listened to Stiles heart speed up and he clenched and unclenched his hand. “Hey, thanks-“

“Don’t mention it.” said Derek gruffly.

“Aren’t you going to ask-“

“No.”

“But don’t you want to know why-“

Derek stood up and took the younger teen by the shoulders. “Stiles,” he said sternly “I trust you.”

“Oh.” Well what is one supposed to say to that? Derek’s hands radiated warmth on his shoulders, melting through his shirt.

“Sit down” Derek said before Stiles could think too much about it and start talking a mile a minute.

The study date turned out to be composed mainly of, well, studying. It would be a lie to claim Stiles wasn’t a bit disappointed. Besides some mild hand brushing over a Calc problem the evening had been highly platonic. Around ten o’clock Derek stood up, they’d been doing some reading after outlining some papers. 

“It’s getting late” he said. Stiles almost wanted to laugh, He’d never seen the Captain look so vulnerable and uncomfortable. Stiles waited for there to be more, and as the seconds drew on Derek face looked like it was going to be eaten by his eyebrows. Then all at once. 

“Doyouwanttogotoapartywithme.”

“What?”

Derek looked up to the heavens, fat chance they’d help and grit his teeth.  
“Do. You. Want. To go to a party. With me.” It sounded like a statement, not a question. 

“Um…. what sort of party?”

*

A werewolf party, composed of Captains and higher rank officers than Stiles was prepared for. Up a steep stair case in a tower (seriously, paramilitary werewolf Hogwarts) there was a closed off common room full of teens played beer pong, made out and chatted like it was a bad eighties movie. The elite and the wealthy, whether born or recently bitten wolves were there. Stiles had heard of these parties, meant to correspond with different parts of the lunar cycle, but he’d never had any interest in going. 

“Dude, are you trying to ‘Pretty in Pink’ me?”

Derek looked surprised. “This is nothing like that.”

“Hold on- one you’ve seen that movie? And two, yes, it is exactly like that.”

“Hey Hale, who said you could bring pets?” A drunken Jackson stumbled forward out of a group of drunken teenagers. 

“Shut up Jackson!” squeaked a tipsy brunette. “He’s cute and besides- hiccup- he’s you’re Captain” the last bit was stage whispered drunkenly before she descended into giggles.

Kate Argent put down her drink and turned to watch what was happening. Soon other Werewolves looked on.

“I don’t care who he is- I want to know who said you could bring your fucking pets. He’s not supposed to be here.”

Derek looked like he was going to shift and Stiles would not watch some kind of old school battle for his honor go down. Everyone else at the party had gone silent, the eyes on him laser like, and shit Stiles hated being the center of this attention. Standing awkwardly like a duck next to the big bad wolf- Stiles did what his reflexes told him to and reached out for Derek’s hand to stop him from lunging.

The Captain’s shoulder lowered, his breathing slowed, he turned to look at Stiles, visibly calming but eyes glowing. 

He looked back at Jackson. 

“Leave.”

The word rumbled through the room and Jackson’s body shrank as his superior controlled him. Slowly he stood up and crossed the room. As he passed Stiles he whispered ‘This doesn’t change anything.”

The party continued slowly and Derek pulled Stiles farther in, but something had changed. Something about Jackson’s words had affected Stiles, he felt himself feeling closed in. 

As if reading his mind, but probably just reading his body language, Derek whispered in Stiles ear, “Do you want to go?”

Stiles nodded, finding his throat constrained. 

In the stairwell leading up to the common room Stiles stopped for air, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as he’d trained himself to. 

“Your heart changed. I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“Jackson’s right.”

“What?”

“Why did you bring me here? I’m not a wolf Derek and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty sure half the people in that room want to do me bodily harm. What was the point, to intimidate me into staying safe away from those jerks? Believe me, I’m trying. What. trying to make up for the closet?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“Jackson is not right. You’re not my pet.”

“Then what am I?”

“I wanted to show them that you’re-“

“What?”

And then they were kissing.

Stiles lost contact with the rest of the world because his face was currently covered in scruff and soft lips and there were arms pulling him closer. He moved his hands up to Derek’s shoulders and pushed him away. For the first time in a while Stiles was speechless. 

“Let’s go.” Derek said and took him by the hand, leaving the stair well off the grounds. 

*

They sat in the field a long time holding hands.

“I wanted to show them you’re mine, not like what Jackson said, that you’re pack.” Derek winced like he expected because Stiles human the idea would disgust him. 

“Well that was hands down one of the worst plans you’ve ever had.”

“I didn’t rip out Jackson’s throat, did I?”

“Almost did… almost.”

“Yeah, if it hadn’t been for you.”

Derek squeeze Stiles hand and he blushed, laying back on the grass to avoid having to look the older teen in the eye. 

Derek joined him, backs flat against the grass they watched the stars turn over head. Stiles talked about science, about how his mom used to own a telescope and would show him constellations, how at night when the groundskeeper came home too drunk he would sleep on the roof of their hut, and try and remember constellations and some days he could take out books from the library on space. He talked about learning to bake and his mothers recipes in a language he couldn’t’ remember. He talked about the ocean and werewolf anatomy and Scotts love for Alison, but mostly he talked about home. The words poured out quick and then slow, rhythmically moving like tides, and Derek loved listening to every word. 

There was no pressure with Stiles, no expectation that just because his secrets were coming out it had to be mutual. But Derek felt himself joining in slowly adding a story of his own mothers cooking, the intense darkness that brought out the brightest night in their house way off in the woods. After a long silence Stiles spoke about the one topic they’d been avoiding.

“I was eleven when I got here. The last hug I had was when I was ten. The new state didn’t think my Dad could have custody over me, some neighbors blamed my mom, she’d been apart of the resistance, a fighter for equality. My Dad was a Sheriff though.”

Derek waited. He could feel there was more. 

“He had a drinking problem. When she died there wasn’t really anyone to stop him. I started taking care of myself. 

Derek the pale hand, long fingers and soft palm tighter. The stars were bright and the lights from the school distant.

“I’m sorry things are rough.” said Stiles slowly after a while. He hated apologize, but he needed to get it out. He knew of Derek’s family tragedy, knew that the issues with school wouldn’t stop, especially now the Deaton missing.

“Things are rough all over.” Derek replied. 

“Really? The Outsiders?”

“I like to read Stiles.”

“Yeah, but, I thought you’d pick a different quote at least. ‘You get tough like me and you don’t get hurt’ or something.”

Derek let out a bark of a laugh. “Ha, and let me guess, you’d say ‘Get smart and nothing can touch you.’” 

“Close, ‘There isn’t any real good reason for fighting except self-defense.”

They both looked up at the stars, thinking about the book. Stiles broke the silence. “Is it sad that neither one of us would choose ‘Stay gold?’”

Derek huffed. 

“Gold died a long time ago.”

And for some reason, looking up at the dark night sky, that was okay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning- read end notes for details and spoilers

The following night Stiles walked down a hallway coming back from the library when he was pulled into a side corridor. 

Moving swiftly he was able to slide his legs behind his attackers feet and trip him, giving him enough time to try and make an escape. 

“Nice move Stillinski- but you don’t have these do you?”

Jackson Whittemore bared his teeth which sharpened to points.

“Get away from me Jackson.”

“Or what? You’ll chuck some magic fairy dust at me? Or call on you big bad boyfriend? It’s the fifth of the month isn’t it, by my estimate he would be at dinner with dear Headmaster Peter wouldn’t he?”

Stiles tried not to look afraid, and he really wasn’t. Jackson was a skeeze ball but what was he going to do? Beat him up? Not like Stiles hadn’t dealt with that before.

Jackson stalked forward. “I figured it out Stillinski- the other betas, they’re not so quick. They think the reason you smell like him all the time is because he’s hurting you.”

Oh shit. 

“But I can smell what you really are. A mate. You get off on it, don’t you? Getting thrown up against walls.”

Jackson pushed Stiles up against the corridor as if to prove his point but Stiles felt anything but turned on. 

Jackson moved his teeth to Stiles neck and suddenly he felt paralyzed.

“Come on Stillinski, you fucking let Derek touch you like that!” Jackson spit. 

Stiles suddenly found the voice in his throat and he growled.

“Exactly! I let him! As much as he’s our Captain I still have a fucking choice Jackson! I fucking trust him, I trust him to make me feel good and understand and be physical. He’s my alpha.”

And as if those were the magic words there was Derek, growling like crazy and forcing Jackson to back down. Erica and Boyd stood behind him, crouched low. 

Oh no, Derek could not murder someone right now. Stiles stood up and blocked Derek’s path to Jackson. 

“Stiles” it was the lowest growl he’d ever heard. Derek was breathing heavy, radiating sound like a bomb, shoulders moving with the labor. Stiles didn’t blink. Then without warning he was being lifted over the older teens shoulders and being carried away. 

“Classroom. Now.”

Once they got in the room, (seriously, did Derek just kick the door open?) Stiles was laid down on the front desk, his back flat against it’s surface. He recognized the botany room, plants hanging from the ceiling by ropes, and smell of lavender overwhelming his senses.

“Derek-it’s” Derek was already going on top of Stiles. “Okay, Derek it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Derek was still breathing heavy. He reached underneath the table and took out some rope and began tying Stiles to the desk. As he started to tie a knot the wolf seemed to realize what he was doing and looked up at Stiles with questioning eyes, asking permission.”

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. You can tie me up.” Derek held his gaze. “I-I like it.”

And so Derek secured Stiles arms to either side of the desk and slowly began to kiss down his neck, rubbing his face over his collarbone and chest, He licked and nipped at every piece of skin he could reach and when there wasn’t enough skin he ripped the shirt off. Every mark felt like an apology, a small whine in the back of his throat saying “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

But Stiles couldn’t think about that right now because everything felt so good, everything felt so safe, and Jackson was literally having the shit kicked out of him by Erica and Boyd.

Derek got down to Stiles pants and looked up at him with questioning eyes. When Stiles moaned, he took that as permission and undid the button of Stiles pants with his teeth. Derek listened, as Stiles became languid, eyes glossed over with submissive feelings. He pulled against his restraints when Derek finally took him in his mouth, and Derek hummed low around his cock. When it was all over Stiles was shivered from the feelings of ecstasy. He felt like he belonged, like he was loved, like he was whole in a way he couldn’t remember. Derek untied the half sleeping teen from the desk and pulled him in his ripped clothes close to his chest. Stiles drifted off, no thoughts of Jackson at all. 

 

*

Jackson wasn’t in class the next day, and without him a new routine began. 

Erica and Boyd were to be trained specially by Derek in afternoons per Peter’s request; a fact revealed to them at dinner the night Stiles was attacked. Stiles got the idea that maybe Derek should take more of the young werewolves under his wing. teaching them control, scent identification and other useful and more complex skills bitten wolves usually didn’t get trained in. Scott, after much persuasion began to attend pack meetings, and soon a new kid Isaac showed up and started to. He was quite and skinny and attracted the ladies for being poor and mysterious and for some reason Stiles was happy a new kid could take up that role in the schools gossip circle. 

While this went on Allison continued to train Stiles in all manor of martial arts and weapons control, though the most effective weapon he ever used was a baseball bat. Danny and Lydia began coming outside too to witness their progress. Deaton remained missing for two weeks before he returned to teaching, acting as if nothing had ever happened. The one time Stiles asked where he had gone Deaton gave him a look that said ‘do not be an idiot’ so he kept his mouth shut. 

It was a few weeks into this new routine that the two groups, humans and wolves came across each other in the woods. 

Well, Stiles fell onto an unsuspecting Isaac as he was sniffing around in the woods.

“Should we… I don’t know, train together?” Stiles suggested after apologizing to a sourwolf Derek. 

“What- and let you test your strange technologies on us?” Erica made a look at Lydia who was holding a machine making far too many beeping noises. 

“Perhaps. And in exchange you get living, breathing human targets.” Lydia replied.

“I have a better idea,” said Scott, looking at Alison holding her bow. “Why not train together?”

“Dude that’s exactly what I just said.” Stiles sighed. 

“No, I mean like with each other, like-“

“Like a pack.” Derek said and everyone looked at him. Stiles knew it sounded crazy but he liked the idea. 

“It’s not actually that uncommon” Lydia said after a while. “There was a time when packs had humans too” They all knew the rest. That was before the war and biting became a common practice, back in the days when being human wasn’t a threat. 

“Okay. Let’s do this.” said Stiles and so they began to figure out how to use joint training, picking up on each others signals, working in pairs of humans and wolves to do training exercises and using each others skills to their advantage. 

At night, Stiles and Derek would sneak off. After Jackson, rather than being turned off by intimacy, Stiles felt more sure that he finally understood why what he had with Derek was good, he could enjoy it guilt free. 

One night Derek brought Stiles up to an abandoned classroom in one of the schools towers, filled with telescopes used for stargazing, though things eventually shifted as they nearly always did to touching. Stiles was moaning as Derek teased him with kisses but wouldn’t let him touch back. 

“Guh” Stiles grunted in frustration as Derek once again pinned his hands behind his back. 

‘Tell me what you want Stiles.” Derek growled. Courage and frustration flowed through his veins.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, On your knees.”

What? Stiles brain had just turned to soup, when Derek leaned in closer and growled out again. 

“On your knees.” 

His legs felt wobbly as it was, so it didn’t take much for him to fall between Derek’s legs. He watched the older boy as he slowly undid his tie. Stiles licked his lips in anticipation. Then everything went dark.

With his hands behind his back and a makeshift blindfold put in place, he felt a thumb swipe over his bottom lip. He shivered, and let his jaw open and moved his tongue out to lick Derek’s hand, which earned him a soft growl. 

Then there was a hand against the back of his head, nudging him closer to Derek’s legs. Stiles lost all shame and nuzzled into the older teens pants, feeling the hardness underneath the fabric. He went to move his hand to undo the zipper when he felt a hand on the back of his head pulling his hair backwards, so his throat was exposed to the sky and his mouth was left open. 

“Ah ah ah, no hands.” ordered Derek before releasing Stiles who let out a whine. With his hands behind his back again, met at the wrist, he worked to balance himself and leaned in again, mouthing at the shape of Derek’s cock.

Blindly he felt his way up to the zipper and managed, very slowly, to work it down with his teeth. However, pulling Derek’s pants down with just his mouth was proving difficult. Stiles own erection was growing harder by the second; nearly throbbing in his constrained jeans. He moved his face anxiously over Derek’s lap, trying to convince him to help with the problem, moaning. 

“Tell me what it is you want.” growled Derek. Stiles moaned. This was impossible. It was like someone had unplugged his brain and his mouth. 

“You, I want you, please Derek- need to- suck“

Derek made a soft considerate noise.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, thrusting his hips forward a little, as Stiles mouth tried to feel for his cock. “Keep your hands behind your back, I’ll take off these pants and you’ll get a reward.”

“What reward?” Stiles whispered.

“I’ll let you swallow.”

“Mmm”

“What was that?” Derek smiled.

“Yes Sir, please, God-omph” and Stiles was silenced by the feeling of Derek’s cock on his lips. He licked the head gently before leaning forward and taking the whole thing in his mouth. 

“Mm, that’s it Stiles.”

He sucked rhythmically, licking as much as he could, bobbing up and down and twisting his head at the top to make Derek gasp. Fuck, Stiles was good at this. Really good, letting out satisfied little humming noises that reverberated right through Derek and he was going to loose it soon-

That’s when he noticed Stiles hand between his own legs a little patch of wetness soaking through his pants were precome was leaking out as he rubbed off his cock. The kid was touching himself, it must have gotten to be too much and he thought he could hide it. From a werewolf. Ha. Derek immediately pulled out of Stiles mouth and ripped off his blindfold. Stiles looked up, confused, pupils blown black, his fingers still cupping his own hardness. His mouth was parted and wet from the sucking and red from the frictions, lips almost bruised. 

He looked up at Derek, whose hand was around his cock, still jacking off as Stiles stared up at him. 

“I told you to keep you hands. Behind. Your. Back.” he grunted out, putting one hand behind Stiles neck to hold him in place. Stiles watched intently and made a small begging noise as he saw Derek get closer to the edge. 

“Derek, please.”

And that’s all it took, with a moan Derek was coming all over Stiles face. Some come landed on his lips, which his tongue darted up to lick away. He’d closed his eyes when it had come rushing to him, and now was peaking one eye open to look up at his drained Captain. 

Derek grabbed Stiles by the gruff of his shirt, lifted him off the ground and pushed him against the opposite wall, come still all over his face. 

“Good boy.” growled Derek before taking Stiles mouth in a punishing kiss, biting at his bottom lip and claiming all of him. Stiles whimpered as he felt a rough hand move to his leaking cock. Stiles let out a soft noise.

“What do you say?” asked Derek.

“Th-thank you. Sir.”

Derek smiled into Stiles mouth. With one hand he pinned the boys hips against the wall as he fell to his own knees and quickly took Stiles out of his pants. 

His mouth was so hot and so wet and fuck his tongue, Stiles was blowing his load in less than a minute, as Derek pushed him through the orgasm, pumping him until it almost hurt, until he was so empty he never thought he could fill again. Derek licked the side of his lips as he stood up, resting his forehead against Stiles, breathing heavy. 

“F-fuck” said Stiles, still shaking. 

“Roll-“  
“Roll call’s at seven, I know, Jesus. I-“

“Yes?” asked Derek.

and Stiles kissed him, no other response necessary. 

They’d made out for a few hours before Stiles had returned back to his room. He slumped against the door as soon as it was shut behind him.

“Dude, don’t you even mention what I smell like because- Scott?”

The room was empty. 

The window was open. 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger: Consent issue, Stiles gets put in a situation where he might be attacked, but he is rescued and stands up for himself, so just read at your own risk perhaps? 
> 
> Thank you for commenting- I love you a lot and I love writing this story. It's been really fun and hearing from you makes it even better. I apologize for mistakes I make, and hope to get in more soon.


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